


My name's Matt

by Jonah_Smith_907



Series: Some fluff shit, some rough shit. [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and a minor panic attack, did I mention the fluff???, just a small one tho, omg sb stop me, this is literally nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:46:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: When Matt passes out, instead of tying him to a rooftop, Frank takes him somewhere safe.This is like the fluffiest thing you will read all day.





	My name's Matt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of working on the other two stories I'd actually have to continue, but I have SO MANY IDEAS AND I WANNA WRITE ALL OF THEM AT ONCE
> 
> So they'll take another while
> 
> Also: this isn't beta-read, I just wrote this in like ... an hour, so pls don't judge me if it's like kinda sketchy at some parts

It was after the massive trouble with the police, that things started to get weird. Both of them, Frank and Daredevil, had fallen through the roof of some kind of warehouse. Which was painful, but okay. Frank could do pain. The physical kind, anyway. Kept his thoughts at bay. 

And now both of them were laying in the dust. Frank pushed himself up quickly, not letting the other one out of his sight, who was a very good fighter, all ninja-stile and shit. Frank wasn't even sure if he could win against him if they weren't shot at. Probably not. 

Besides, that bastard had taken a bullet to the head, it was a miracle that he'd been able to fight at all. Sure was interesting, though: Two men, both survive a headshot, both seek justice outside of the law. And now they were opponents, fighting each other. 

Or not. 

Because right now, Daredevil didn't look too good. And that was not because of the mask. Though it played its part in it. No, it was something else that was off. The usually so elegant man, always secure on both feet, staggered a few steps to the side. He was barely holding himself up, he was panting heavily and gasping for air. He lifted one hand up to his face, as if he had a headache, shook his head and then _fucking passed out_! He just made a deep sound in the back of his throat before dropping to the floor. 

“What the …” But there wasn't time for an answer. There wasn't even time for a question. Frank had to make a decision, fast. Red was a pain in the ass, but it didn't seem right to leave him out here for the cops to find. 

Without hesitating further, Frank unceremoniously lifted the vigilante up and hauled him over his shoulder. Then, as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, he made his way out of the building and to one of his safe-houses. 

 

It took him what felt like years, but eventually he reached the small flat. The Devil had only stirred a few times, but had otherwise remained motionless.

Now Frank gently – no, wait what? Who said anything about being gentle?! Not Frank. Never. But then again, it was probably not a good idea to just throw an unconscious person, who had only recently gotten shot, onto the couch. That might end bad. So, again: 

Now Frank gently lowered the other man onto his couch. He stared at him for a moment, before shaking his head. Then he took off his armour and tossed it onto a table, on top of his guns. After that he went to pull off Red's helmet. It came off easily, but as soon as Frank let it fall to the floor, the man in the mask – without the mask, mind me – snapped open his eyes and caught Frank's wrist, nearly giving him a heart attack. 

“Jesus, calm down! You are safe!” But the fellow vigilante didn't seem to hear him. His eyes flickered through the room, too fast to be possibly absorbing anything and his breath came out short and shallow. Not good. “Can you hear me, Red?” Frank reached out with his other hand and firmly gripped Daredevil's shoulder, but there was not reaction, nothing more than a violent flinch, as he pressed himself into the couch, seemingly trying to disappear. “Red?”

Suddenly the ninja-by-night parted his ridiculously beautiful lips, little gasps escaping him, and more or less choked out: “Frank? I can't – can't hear! I can't hear, I – I ca-can't-” He clutched Franks arm, the one on his shoulder, gripping it like a life line. “I can't hear!”

“Oh, fuck!” Frank glanced down at the red helmet. Sure, it wasn't broken, but an angry scar was proof of the attempt to try and fix the hole that had been ripped through it by a bullet. Frank's bullet. “Fuck!”, he repeated. 

The only good thing about this whole situation was, that at least he wasn't considered a threat by Red. Not a big one, anyway, because that might have led to complications. 

For a second he didn't know what to do, until he decided he had to do _something_. He pulled the other man into a sitting position, sat down next to him, took one of his shaking hands into his own and put it on his chest, just above his heart. 

At first Daredevil shot him a confused look, but then he seemed to understand and focussed, feeling the strong and calm heartbeat underneath his fingers. He let the rhythm of his deep breathing take over his own ragged gasps for air, absorbing it. 

After several minutes, he finally managed to take one deep breath, but he didn't let go of Frank. Instead he did something so out of character, that Frank was too surprised to do anything against it. Though it wasn't clear if he'd even have wanted to. 

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen leaned forward and crawled onto the Punisher's lap, until his head was resting on his chest. Then he slung his hands around his waist and held on for dear life. 

Feeling a little bit at loss, Frank began stroking Red's back in small circles, slowly and soothing. 

He only noticed after a few seconds, that Daredevil was whispering something, always repeating, as if he had no control over his vocal chords: “It's back! It's back it's back it's back!” 

“Red?”, Frank pushed him a little away from himself to try and look at him, but Red wasn't having it. 

“My name's Matt.”, he croaked instead, without moving. “You can call me Matt.”

“Okay. Do you … do you need a little longer?” Matt nodded. Then he started to cry all of a sudden. Frank figured it was out of relief. He also figured he'd have to wait this one out, because this whole situation was kind of his fault. “Okay. You take your time.” He nodded to himself, lowered his head a little and turned it, so that his cheek was now lightly resting on top of Matt's head. He put his strong arms around the other man and held him tight, embracing him with his own warmth. “You take your time.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, you can go to my Instagram page Jonah_Smith_907_Fanfictions.  
> I will post updates there and you can send me prompts if you want.


End file.
